Another Shot
by yuffiehighwind
Summary: It's tough enough remembering two lives, never mind why she gave them to you. Jefferson/Regina.


_**Summary:**__ It's tough enough remembering two lives, never mind why she gave them to you._

_**Notes: **__Based on episodes up through S2 Ep 5 "The Doctor." Takes place before Henry is born and after my fanfic "Only Sometimes." Originally posted 11/05/12 on Archive of Our Own. Regina/Jefferson. Sexually Explicit._

**Another Shot**

The Hatter had never seen the Queen let her inhibitions go, back home, unless he counted those times he'd been inside her. Even her serial murders seemed calculated, and he never caught her inhaling raw magic, as she sometimes did in private, dilating her pupils and turning her irises purple. If Regina held a glass of sparkling wine at a party, he never saw her sip it. Like it was just another crystal accessory.

But Regina Mills was from Boston - (More-or-less. Anyone in the Commonwealth claimed they were from Boston just to have a simple answer for outsiders) - and she had gone to UMass, so a straight bottle of bourbon/jäger/rum wasn't alien to her, and she could drink him under the table.

Jefferson knew Regina didn't really come from there, or even think she did. The Mayor knew exactly who she was, and only faked this backstory, while Jefferson really did wake from dreams most nights of a dazzling city of lights with tall, metal towers reaching up into the clouds.

He avoided other people in Storybrooke except to buy food and watch his daughter Grace, so he never entered Granny's Diner. Didn't dare set foot in it, after the first time, when worried glances followed him to the counter, and whispers that he was crazy. Jefferson did look more than a little unhinged, behind the eyes. He'd admit that. He ordered tea and cake, but couldn't stay even for that, despite the young waitress Ruby's wide, accepting smile.

Regina came over to inspect - and admire - Jefferson's vast collection of fine wines and spirits, which she'd put there, as if his house were her own personal liquor cabinet. He wasn't surprised, anymore, of the things she'd done or do, but drinking shot after shot still raised his eyebrows.

His New York mask felt more concern than the Hatter would, so he gently removed the bottle from her hands and told her to slow down.

"What's wrong this time?" he asked.

"Same shit, different day," Regina said. "Quite literally, Jefferson," the Queen added. "It happened again."

"What?"

"The same goddamn conversation. I walk into a City Council meeting and hear the same words I've heard 15 times."

"Government meetings can become a bit repetitive," Jefferson said, licking salt off his hand and picking up a shot of tequila. He took it and grimaced, then bit into a slice of lime. "Tiresome. Mundane."

"No, it's that tree. The one whose branches are hanging over the Baker's property that the Cobbler insists can't be cut because it's _his_ tree..."

"Whose?"

"...And this is the 15th time I've heard their case."

"Those two sure are persistent."

"Every year it's exactly the same. Exactly. To the word, to the letter."

She clapped a hand on his shoulder and waved a Sunrise in his face.

"You don't understand, Jefferson. I didn't know it would be this way."

He picked up their orange juice and swigged some right from the carton. She climbed into his lap, straddling him, breath stinking of tequila.

He caressed her lower back, saying, "Then you shouldn't have gone into politics."

"You're not listening to me, Hatter."

Jefferson blinked and suddenly remembered, with startling clarity, who he was holding.

He shoved her on the floor.

"What are you doing here?"

"Jefferson!"

"How'd you get in?"

"You _invited_ me."

"No, I didn't. I don't remember doing that."

She got up and adjusted her skirt.

"You don't remember a lot of things."

He stood up. Grabbed the tequila bottle and drank some straight.

"What were you saying, anyway? Whining about your lonely life? Some 'happy ending,' huh?"

"I wasn't _whining_."

"You deserved this, you know. Every looped minute of it."

"So did you!" she shouted. "So did _you._ Remember that."

"What are you talking about?"

She lay down on the couch, twirling a shot glass in her hands inscribed with "Storybrooke" and a drawing of a little clock tower.

"Because of Daniel."

Jefferson sat down on her legs, forcing her to move them. She placed them in his lap, instead, and he idly rubbed her calves.

"What about him?"

"You remember two lives, Hatter. How could you not remember that part?"

"Who was Daniel? I didn't know the man."

"Yes, you did. Why do you think I put you here? In this house? Separated from your daughter but so close? Close enough to know you could be with her, but the one person who could help you wouldn't ever do so?"

He squeezed her thigh and glared at the far wall.

"Regina, you're treading in very dangerous territory."

"I can't believe you don't remember the night we first met."

"Should I?"

She shook her head.

"Nevermind. Forget it."

He trailed his hand up under her skirt, lightly touching her between the legs and considering fucking her hard until she gave in and told him. He rubbed her clitoris, hating himself. This wasn't him at all. The Hatter loved his wife, and his daughter. Had no vicious bone in his body and zero desire for this loathsome woman. But some hypomanic part of the lonely businessman with the mansion and the wine bottles and the little tabs of Thorazine wanted to eat her out and make her come, so she'd moan her secrets.

"You broke my heart, Jefferson," she said.

"When?"

But she was reticent, spreading her legs, confusing him. The night they'd met? Hadn't he been called to the castle, to her court? For his "unique services?"

"Tell me," Jefferson said, ceasing his motions. She squirmed in his lap, arching her back, body begging him to keep touching her.

"You _promised_ me..."

"Spit it out, Regina."

"...That _he_ could bring him _back_ to me. If anyone could do it, _he _could, you said. With a power greater than magic."

"There's no power greater than magic. You know that. The real question is, why did you want to live _here?_ Without it?"

Regina didn't answer. She bent her leg to rub his groin with her foot, making him half-hard. He stopped her. Put her leg down. Leaned over her body to set up another two shots of tequila and lime on the coffee table.

"Whatever your reason, you've cursed yourself as well. Because the only person you keep complaining to is me, when all I want is to be left alone to my misery."

"I _hate_ you," she said.

"I'm not sure why, since I didn't do anything wrong."

"I always did."

"Sure. Which is why you kept fucking me."

"You'll remember eventually."

"Kinda difficult with two histories. Thirty five years, doubled, on top of another fifteen, so that actually makes me a very old man."

"How do you think _I_ feel?" she snapped.

"You wanted to be young forever, didn't you?"

He reached back under her skirt to resume rubbing her clit, holding her down with his other hand. She thrust into his palm, murmuring, "We're even now, Jefferson."

He despised her, even with every brush of his thumb. He'd wind her up, tease her, as long as it took, until she'd tell him why. How could she ever rationalize, within that black heart, breaking him down and making him pick up the shattered pieces by himself? Evil, pure and simple. Selfish and cruel.

She said nothing, just breathed shallowly and grew wet beneath his fingers.

He'd drink to forget, tonight. Kill some brain cells, but stuff those pills in a bottom drawer, because the label said "Do not mix," and he couldn't abandon his daughter again.

Jefferson pulled Regina's panties down and worked her into a frenzy, to that plateau, to the very edge of orgasm, and his pride wanted to add two more fingers, to thrust against her G-spot and make her moan his name.

But he did what the Hatter would have done, and stopped, withdrew his hand, leaving her unsatisfied. Pushed her legs off him and stood up. Walked out of the room with the bottle of tequila, telling her, "You can show yourself out. "


End file.
